


instinct

by kalypsobean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 08, Purgatory, Voyeur Sam Winchester, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Sam does look for Dean after season 7. It doesn't work out as he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	instinct

**Author's Note:**

> For lysanatt's prompt ' _natural habitat_ ' at salt_burn_porn

Dark magic - blood magic, especially with his blood - is unexpectedly powerful. The witch Sam had tortured hadn't been sure it would work, but here Sam is. It certainly is not Kansas anymore, not with the sky so grey with no sign of clouds or rain, and the trees devoid of any kind of lush spring green. Even the air is cold, still, though the breeze is enough to chill Sam and make him wish he'd stolen something of Dean's, something warmer, to wear over his hoodie. He hadn't thought to wait, though, and planning would have taken too long. 

If there was a chance Dean was here, in a Purgatory filled with monsters put back by Dean himself, then Sam had to get him out.

 

Now that he's here, it's a simple matter of a locator spell; he doesn't have a map, but he lights a match, sets it to a clump of hair that he'd found on a comb in Dean's duffel, and waits. The flame doesn't extinguish, though Sam has to hold his breath against the smell; instead, he follows it as it floats between trees, over grass, and around a lake like it knows that Sam couldn't cross it. 

It feels like he's been walking for miles when the flame goes out. Sam couldn't be sure; he'd swear the landscape had changed as he'd walked through it, and he'd been back where he started at least once, but the spell was for a direct line to the person it was designed to seek, and he'd trust that magic over this other world. He's tired, and he's started eyeing each tree warily, as if it could walk, so he puts it down to that - he'll grab Dean, mutter the words, and have them back in their world, in the Impala, and everything will go back to the way it was.

 

The first thing he hears that doesn't belong here is his brother's voice, and he rushes forward without any heed of the words that Dean is saying. He skids, stops just short of entering the clearing, when he sees that Dean is not alone.

Dean is naked. His skin is smeared with dirt and blood, but he doesn't seem to care. He's fitter, too, Sam notes; despite the new, pink scars that show through the filth, his shoulders are wider, his chest more defined, his arms solid. Sam can see Dean's muscles stretch even from here, as Dean drags his hand down the other man's back, drawing blood. He leans in, pulls the other man tight against him, apparently so he can lick some of it away. The other man grunts, calls Dean brother, and Sam's not sure what part of what he's seeing makes his head go light and his knees weak. He doesn't put himself in the other man's place; they don't have much in common, appearance-wise, so he can't tell himself that Dean is pretending that it's Sam's shoulder he's biting in to as he shifts his hips forward and back. Sam does reach down and press his palm down, willing his erection to fade as he does so, but the pressure seems to make anything his brain says ineffective; through his jeans, he can feel the blood pulsing under his skin, making him harder. He's afraid to do more, in case the sound carries and he's noticed. 

This is something Dean would not want him to see.

 

His mouth is dry, now, like he's on the edge of being dehydrated, which would make sense after walking for so long, but his jeans are wet under his hand and he can't make himself turn away from Dean. He's thrown his head back now; his hair is stained dark with sweat, and Sam can see small drops of it catch the light, glistening almost brighter than the sun. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open, just enough to breathe through. Sam has a mental image of himself being the one to match his lips to Dean's, tangling their tongues together as he decided when Dean could breathe and when he would have to hold the air in until he was as dizzy as Sam is now. He pushes it away, but it comes back, unbidden and graphic, as he fills in the details - how Dean would taste right now, his skin of salt and grime and his mouth of berries and sour leaves; the scratch of Dean's stubble across his skin, maybe on his thighs, perhaps just on his cheek; the sting as Dean's nails scratched and caught on his sides, and the open air on the blood that welled; Dean's eyes, unblinking and unmoving, as he held Sam down and thrust into him until neither could take it any more and begged for a release, any end to the friction and raw pleasure that edged on pain.

But instead of that, Sam stays where he is, watching, as the other man braces himself on a fallen log and cries out, Dean's thrusts become erratic and then stop completely. Sam comes, bites down on his tongue to swallow the moan that goes with it, but the other man hears him, somehow. His head turns, snaps to the side almost preternaturally fast, and Sam sees fangs bared in his triumphant, possessive smile.

 

Sam whispers the Latin with what little breath he has left, trusting that the words in his mind and the mess in his jeans will strengthen the spell enough for it to do the job. The world spins away, and he's leaning on the bonnet of the Impala as if she knows she needs to hold him up right now. Dean always said things like that, and Sam had written them off, but she's the only thing he has right now, and he's allowed to be delirious.

He stumbles to the door and somehow gets it open, wide enough for him to collapse through. He drives, not really knowing where he's going or why any more than he has to get away from a spot where the worlds are close together, away from what he saw. He drives, not really seeing the road or the houses either side.

He drives, and he hits a dog.


End file.
